Princess (American Princess #1)(8)
Author: Courtney Cole

“Miss, are you sure you have the right address?”

The cabbie met her eyes in the rear-view mirror, waiting for a confirmation.  If her situation hadn’t been so dire, she would have laughed at the puzzlement on his face.  As it was, it was so un-funny that it was ridiculous.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she confirmed.  The cabbie just shook his head as he looked out the window again. It was clear that he thought she was out of her mind.

“I hope so,” he commented brusquely.  “I’ve got another call and can’t wait for you.”

The cab glided up to the curb in front of Stephen’s address and she appraised the situation.  It didn’t look so bad.  The little Cape Cod duplex was tiny, but it was neat.  The light gray paint looked clean and the grass was freshly mowed. She took a cleansing breath and climbed out of the cab on shaky legs. Her reality was coming down around her ears now and it was leaving her feeling a little weak. 

She unloaded her bags, paid the driver and then watched in silence as he drove away.  Hopefully, Stephen was home or she was screwed. She was clearly out of place in this neighborhood and people were beginning to stare.

She walked quickly up the sidewalk and pushed the doorbell once.  She had never actually met Stephen in person—only online. They had video-chatted, so she definitely knew what he looked like. But he certainly wasn’t expecting to find her on his doorstep today.  She found herself wishing that she had called from the cab. It would have been the polite thing to do but she hadn’t been thinking clearly.  And she probably still wasn’t.

The door opened and Stephen was suddenly facing her, surprise apparent on his strikingly handsome face.  He clearly recognized her at once and then his gaze flickered to the suitcases sitting on the porch next to her.

“Sydney?”  He phrased her name as a question, as he smiled at her warmly and without hesitation.  “Come in.”

And she gladly would have.  If she hadn’t fainted first.

CHAPTER THREE

Time changed everything, Sydney mused as she lay flat on her back on twisted second-hand sheets, running her fingers lightly over her swollen, na**d belly. Her slender fingers consciously outlined her fall from grace, tracing every line and growing contour of it.  Staring at the dust motes spiraling in the light of the dingy window, she pondered her changed circumstances.

Letting thoughts run rampant, her fingers found a hard lump just below her bottom rib. She pressed on it lightly and her entire belly shifted in reaction. She felt a sudden hard kick against her ribcage and winced.  Her little hitch-hiker was growing stronger by the day.  The movements that used to feel like butterfly wings in her belly now felt like shoes tumbling in a dryer.  Big, heavy steel-toed work-boots.  But she loved feeling the movement, anyway.  Her baby was growing and thriving, despite so many people that had wanted it dead.

As her hands palmed the ball that was now her stomach, she suddenly felt like an inflated shadow of her normal self.  During the past four months that she had been at Stephen’s house, she had gained twenty pounds (so far), developed rampant and continuous food cravings and had ankles that swelled up like water balloons in the stifling, suck-the-air-right-out-of-your-body Midwestern heat.

And even though she felt like a bloated, grotesque imitation of herself, the cravings were the worst part because she didn’t have enough money to satisfy them. Anymore. She definitely hadn’t gotten used to the lack of money thing yet.  And since she couldn’t afford the roasted turkey and hot buttered crab legs that she craved, she consoled herself with cheap replacements like King Size Snickers bars, which did a lot to explain the twenty-pound weight gain.    “Syd?”

A low male voice resonated from the hallway a brief second before Stephen stuck his head through her doorway.

He couldn’t really knock because the door itself was long gone, leaving only the protruding painted hinges behind.  The gaping rectangular hole left quite a lot to be desired in the privacy department.

“Yes?” she answered quickly, pulling down her shirt.

Her movement stirred the scent of sour milk and sweat.  His household was definitely that of a bachelor. She found herself wishing that she could wash the bedding in flower-scented soap, but was afraid it would make her seem ungrateful, like she thought his house wasn’t good enough for her.  And that wasn’t the case.

“Are you going to get up sometime today?” His mouth twitched at the corners, although he didn’t have any room to talk.  Sometimes, when he got a burst of creativity, he would write all night long and then sleep the entire next day.

She sighed delicately, the flush in her cheeks revealing her embarrassment.

“I only meant to lie down for a minute. I’ve never been so tired in my entire life. The baby steals all of my energy.  What time is it anyway?” The way the shadows were slanted against her cramped bedroom walls told her that it was late afternoon.

“It’s 4:15. You’ve been asleep since noon.”

The twitch curled into a wide smile. Stephen was the most easy-going person she had ever met. And she loved it when he smiled. It was warm and comfortable, like a favorite pair of jeans.

“You were up by noon to know that?” She eyed him doubtfully.

“Well, Miss Smart-Mouth, maybe not.  Maybe you’re rubbing off on me!” He winked mischievously as he crossed his arms and leaned on the doorjamb.

He was wearing a old pair of broken-in Levi’s that molded to his body and hung off of his h*ps in the way that only a man’s jeans can.  He was shirtless, his chest surprisingly toned.  She wouldn’t have thought that a writer who did no manual labor could be so naturally well-built.  But he was. He really could’ve stepped right out of a Banana Republic catalogue. 

He wasn’t handsome in the same obvious “look at me” way that Christian was, but he was beautiful in an easy, earthy way.  His longish dark brown hair slanted artistically across his forehead and his dark brown eyes were like melted chocolate.  As she stared at him, Sydney felt the need to remind herself of a few key points:

One: He was her cousin.  So distantly related that they didn’t know exactly how, but family was family.

Two: She was five months pregnant with someone else’s baby.

Three:  He had taken her in.  She was sure that she was simply a charity case to him.